


Retrouvailles

by xiujaemin



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Amnesia, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-18 21:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10625178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiujaemin/pseuds/xiujaemin
Summary: Kim Jongin just might have a teeny-weeny crush on that wide-eyed guy next door. But the problem is… He doesn’t even know what the problem is.





	

↔ ↔ ↔

 

 

“The very first thing you do when you meet someone new is smile, offer your hand for a handshake and introduce yourself. Maybe even try to start some small talk. Not stare at them till your eyes pop out of your head.” Jongin states as-a-matter-of-factly, ignoring the weird look his new neighbor gave him. Having those big eyes stare at him as if they were boring right into his soul crept him out, but he just wasn’t about to give up yet because this was his chance at talking to the guy who has been starting to interest him for the past few days and DAMMIT HE LOOKS LIKE AN INNOCENT FIVE YEAR OLD CAN I KEEP HIM.

He got a grip of himself after a few moments, yet the guy was still staring at him, unmoving. Did he have dirt on his face? Or was he just really that handsome? He held out his hand despite the protests his brain was screaming right at him. “I’m Kim Jongin, by the way.” He tried to act with as much “swag” as he could muster.

The guy just simply stared at Jongin’s extended hand for a beat and returned the focus of his eyes on Jongin’s face. “I know.” It was the first time that Jongin had heard the guy speak, and good lord, does he have the nicest voice that seemed to remind him of syrup-glazed pancakes and cookies and milk. Jongin would’ve asked the guy to go out with him right then and there if it weren’t for the weird look the guy was giving him and the fact that he knew Jongin’s name even if it was the first time they’ve met (as far as Jongin could remember, that is). He would’ve freaked out like a paranoia-stricken person if it were someone else but THIS IS THE GUY YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR LIKE AGES (actually, he’s only seen him loitering around the apartment complex for less than a week) TO TALK TO.

“I mean I remember you.” The guy clarified upon seeing the expression on his face. “The management made a new apartment directory, right? And from what I’ve read… You live on the twelfth floor, east wing?” He picked at the hem of his shirt and looked at the floor, showing off his unease. “Also, I saw you by the lobby a lot of times. We’re practically neighbors.”

Jongin blinked. He didn’t know that. Or was he just too absorbed in his own thoughts that he wouldn’t have known this person even lived in the same floor if his best friend Sehun hadn’t bumped into the guy as they were walking in the lobby in the general direction of Jongin’s room to play video games to pass the time and greeted him and then leaving in a flash like a ninja because this certain guy named Luhan who Sehun happened to have had a crush on ever since they were in high school happened to pass by them on his way to his own room). At times like this, Jongin was thankful that even though sometimes Sehun lacked initiative, he always had the perfect timing in disappearing into thin air.

“Oh, right.” Jongin shook his head and lied his ass off. “So you were the one they meant by ‘person who recently moved here’. Sorry, it kinda slipped my mind.” But he didn’t forget. How could he forget, when there wasn’t anything to remember, anyway?

“So… what’s your name?” _Which room do you stay in, the one to the right of my room, or the one to the left? How old are you? Do you like guys? Are you still going to school or do you still have a job? What do you think of me? Do you like me? No, scratch that: is it possible for you to like me? **Because I think I may have fallen for you.**_

The guy peeked up at him curiously. Beads of sweat already started forming in Jongin’s forehead at the few seconds of silence because WHAT IF HE REALIZES THAT I LIKE HIM WHAT IF HE’S STRAIGHT WHAT IF HE THINKS I’M GOING TO STALK HIM THAT’S WHY I’M ASKING FOR HIS NAME OH MY GOD HE MIGHT NOTICE MY SASAENG TENDENCIES—WAIT NOPE THAT WAS SEHUN—BUT STILL.

But then the guy’s mouth broke into a grin, his pretty pink lips forming into a perfect heart shape, and Jongin was suddenly dumbstruck at how cute the guy looked. If it was just the norm, he would’ve been vomiting rainbows and crushing stuffed unicorns because he had to get rid of too much kawaii in his system after seeing the guy’s expression. “I’m Kyungsoo. Do Kyungsoo.”

Jongin couldn’t help but smile back. “Kyungsoo.” He tested out the syllables of the guys name, and he might just be imagining things, but it sounded perfect, as if he was meant to be saying that name over and over again. “Nice to meet you.” He tried holding out his hand again even after the bitter failure of his first attempt.

The guy’s—Kyungsoo’s grin became wider, and this time, he took it. “It’s nice to finally really meet you too, Kim Jongin.”

At that moment, Jongin didn’t know what to do because he felt as if the earth stopped rotating in its axis at that exact moment, that the planet stopped revolving around the sun and it was only the two of them, with him holding Kyungsoo’s hand and Kyungsoo smiling that adorable smile at him. He wished the moment would stretch on forever.

His mind was a garble of words he was stumbling to say but couldn’t, of words like “DO KYUNGSOO SHOULD BE SENT TO JAIL BECAUSE IT’S ILLEGAL TO BE THIS ATTRACTIVE” and “THERE SHOULD BE A LIMIT TO HOW KAWAII SOMEONE COULD BE” and “SOMEONE HAND ME SOME FLUFFY UNICORNS, I NEED COMFORT. I NEED SOMETHING TO SQUISH TO KEEP MYSELF FROM HUGGING THIS PERSON RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME”.

↔ ↔ ↔

 

Do Kyungsoo was a pastry chef that worked part-time at a bar every weekends to sing because he wanted to save up more money (“For future purposes”, he had told Jongin). He was twenty-five, and had a dream to go to Paris and make some fine-ass croissant and eat dopeshit French bread. And maybe shoot pantomimes in the head while driving a cherry red Ferrari to get revenge from all the nightmares he had when he was a kid after watching a silent movie with a creepy-faced pantomime in it.

Other than that, the identity of Do Kyungsoo remained as a mystery to Jongin.

 

↔ ↔ ↔

 

But Kyungsoo knew a lot about Kim Jongin. He knew that Jongin liked to dance (and had wanted to become a prima ballerina back when he was young because he didn’t know yet that guys who danced ballet were called danseurs and had no idea what the lead danseur was called, and also “OH MY GOD DID YOU SEE THAT GIRL’S PINK TUTU YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN BECAUSE YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND ME THEN AND YOU WOULD’VE WANTED TO BECOME A PRIMA BALLERINA TOO”), but pursued architecture instead even if he didn’t particularly like drawing and only thought he was a decent artist (“Dad would’ve wanted me to be an engineer, but I suck at Math and both of my parents didn’t approve of dancing. They even told me that I wouldn’t achieve anything by just dancing and I wouldn’t amount to anything with only a dream in mind without thinking about the possible implications of choosing to pursue it. So instead of ‘prancing around’, like what my father have called it I… chose this. So go figure.”)

He also knew that Jongin had been best friends with Oh Sehun, the bratty-looking kid that lived in one of the rooms in the same floor with them ever since they were kids, even though they always got on each other’s nerves and kept on bickering for more than half of the times they were together. He also happened to know the not-so-secret (and by this I mean very obvious) crush Sehun has on that Chinese transfer studnet Xiao Luhan who happened to be his senior back in their days in the university. Kyungsoo wondered why it wasn’t a mystery to him that Luhan also lived in the same floor of the same apartment complex. Maybe because life was much more like a cliché flick?

Jongin was a year younger than him, and loved watching dramas (hence the drama references that Jongin sometimes uses on him) even if he was “too much of a man” (to which Sehun replied “Really, are you sure?” along with a suggestive wag of his eyebrows) for that (Jongin had rebutted then with “at least I don’t watch Disney Movies anymore. At least I don’t pretend to be Elsa while singing Let it Go in the shower and imagine that Mr. Choi’s dog is a reindeer”, to which Sehun replied with a short “I will kill you Kim Jongin. You and your whole clan. Just you wait.” Before proceeding to chase him out of his room and into the lobby).

Kyungsoo knew these facts about Jongin like the back of his own hand, and he remembers them. Because of course, how could he even forget them? He always remembered everything, even the ones he has always wanted to forget—a memory buried deep down a jar covered in soil at the back of his head that kept haunting him like a ghost.

 

↔ ↔ ↔

 

They were sitting at a bench in the bus stop, waiting for the bus to arrive so that they could finally go back to the apartment after a long day spent hanging out at the mall. Nobody was talking; the silence was deafening.

Gathering up every bit of courage that he could muster, Jongin closed his eyes and poured out everything he felt in the four words that he said. “Hyung, I like you.”

But there was no response.

He opened his eyes to gauge Kyungsoo’s reaction, but the latter was busy staring into space. “Did he even hear what I just said?” was the thought that bothered him.

At that exact moment, Kyungsoo broke out from his mental reverie, eyes focusing on Jongin. “Uhm, yes? Were you saying something?”

Jongin felt something tugging at his heart. Being able to voice out your feelings yet not having the other person hear it almost hurt as much as rejection did. He smiled, but Kyungsoo didn’t notice that the smile didn’t reach his eyes as it usually does. “Nothing.”

Kyungsoo nodded. “Okay, then,” and returned to staring into the distance.

Jongin scratched the back of his neck. “Actually hyung I—“ his next words were drowned out by the screeching of tires as a bus came to stop in front of them.

Kyungsoo stood up, hands in his jacket pocket. “The bus is here. Wanna watch a movie some time later?”

Jongin gave the older one a tight smile, despite feeling wretched. He stood up from his seat. “Sure.” _There will still surely be a next time, right?_

**Or so he thought.**

 

↔ ↔ ↔

 

“What hurts more: forgetting about everyone you love, or remembering every painful memory that you’ve ever had?” Kyungsoo asked Jongin one Friday night as they were watching reruns of Boys over Flowers in the fourteen-inch television in Jongin’s room, huddled together in the couch in front of the t.v.

Jongin removed his eyes from being glued to the television screen. “Is there a problem? And what’s with the sudden question? Why are you suddenly being as deep as the Marianas Trench?”

Kyungsoo slapped his forearm (“Ow, how could you do that to me?”). “I don’t have a problem. It’s just that… I was thinking…” he shook his head, as if the gesture would clear his mind from all the things he was thinking of. “I just happened to think of that.” He shifted in his seat so that he was fully facing Jongin whose full attention was now on him. “So, what do you think?”

Jongin swallowed, surprised by the proximity. They were less than a hand’s length apart, and this was the closest that they have ever been near each other. He couldn’t stop thinking that if he just moved a few inches forward, he could kiss those pretty lips of Kyungsoo’s and massage all the creases on his forehead away, and… and…

“Jongin?”Kyungsoo snapped his fingers in front of Jongin’s face. “Hello, earth to Jongin? Are you still in Pluto? Because it’s not a planet anymore, you know.”

“Jongin blinked, finally being able to escape his own train of thoughts. “Uhm… I’m sorry, what were you saying again?” I got distracted because I wanted to kiss you so badly.

Kyungsoo sighed deeply. “You know what, I’ve got a confession to make.”

“Yes?” Jongin held his breath, eyes sparkling in expectation and ears strained well to hear every word that Kyungsoo had to say. He was quite hopeful that he would finally, finally get what he wanted. _Are you gay for me? Are you going to confess that you like me too?_

Kyungsoo looked uncomfortable, and he squirmed in his seat, interlacing his fingers together in discomfort. However, he started speaking again. “Remember the first time you talked to me? Well, it wasn’t true that I knew about you by reading the apartment directory. I don’t even know how you fell for that, but the only things written in the directory were the names and contact numbers of the residents.”

_Oh._

“I only knew that about you because I happened to overhear your conversation with the Joonmyun-hyung – I mean the receptionist—when you asked for a duplicate of the key to your room because you lost it.” (it wasn’t true though, because he actually accidentally flushed it down the toilet)

 _Oh._ **OH.** (Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why would I even hope for anything?)

“And I remembered all of that—you name, your face, your room number. All in an instant.Because I could never forget.”

“Oh—w-wait, what?”Jongin interrupted. Did he perhaps remember it because he liked me?

“My memory’s sharp. Not normal sharp like the ‘I could remember the lessons from the previous week’ sharp, but really, really very very sharp. I remember people’s faces clearly even if I only saw them once. I remember a long list of numbers just by looking at it for a few seconds. I could memorize a whole book just in time for a normal person to have just finished reading it. I will always remember the exact pair of clothes I wore on a certain day I’d even be able to draw a detailed map of this whole city.”

“But why—“ Jongin started, but Kyungsoo cut him off.

“But why is it that I’m keeping it a secret? That I’m only telling you this now, and why you of all people?” Kyungsoo gave him a tight smile, and Jongin observed that he looked tired. Probably because this wasn’t the first time he got asked with those questions and it’s slowly been turning into a routine.

Kyungsoo turned his head in the direction of the television, staring at it but not really looking. Geum Jan Di’s scream of “Goo Jun Pyoooo!” bounced off the walls of the room, but it wasn’t enough to conquer the silence and contain the sadness that seeped in with it. “I kept it a secret because I’m tired of being used. I’m not a computer for Pete’s sake, I’m still human.” He rolled his eyes and laughed without humor, though Jongin couldn’t quite grasp what was funny.

“And I’m telling you this right now because,” he turned to look at Jongin’s usually half-lidded eyes now fully open and laced with worry with his own child-like ones. He smiled at Jongin tiredly, eyes blinking slowly. “I can’t take this anymore, and you’re the closest I’ve got to a best friend.”

Jongin was sure he was supposed to be hurt because Kyungsoo said “best friend” and not “boyfriend”, or even “potential boyfriend” (or something along the lines of that), but all he felt was happiness, because Kyungsoo trusted him more than anyone else to share his secret with.

“I moved here a few months ago in the hopes of starting a new life, and this seemed to be the most ideal place. Nobody around here knew me, and I had my work here to distract me.” Jongin held Kyungsoo’s hand in his, and the older one was thankful for the contact, for he felt as if it was the only thing left in this world that was anchoring him to reality that was not in any way related to the pain he was feeling in his heart.

His voice came in a barely-audible whisper, but Jongin was still able to hear him. “I still remember 3 years, 11 months, 2 weeks, 6 days…” he stopped to take a look at the watch on his wrist. “7 hours, 31 minutes and 12 seconds ago, when the two people that I cared for the most died.”

 

↔ ↔ ↔

 

They were on their way home from celebrating Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s anniversary (of course they had private time to themselves to celebrate the day, but Chanyeol’s name had appeared in Kyungsoo’s phone as it vibrated on top of the tabletop that had then looked white from all of the flour that had scattered, and he suddenly got his ass hauled into a dinner in a fine-dining restaurant that they had only stared at from afar back in the days. But why wouldn’t they invite him, anyway? They were college roommates after all, and he was primarily the reason why the two idiots got together), and Kyungsoo had insisted to be the one driving (“You two just sit back there and I’ll do all the driving because it’s your anniversary and I don’t want to ruin the mood. And also Chanyeol’s too dumb to know which way to go, anyway.” He reasoned), and the two were seated at the back, whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears and giggling (“Blech”, Kyungsoo had faked vomiting and rolled his eyes, earning a “Go get a life!” retort from Baekhyun, yet deep inside he was smiling and asking himself when he’d have something like that, and if he’d ever have something like that).

Suddenly there were lights that were too bright for the eyes glaring from behind their car. Tires screeched, windows broke, and the sound of a dozen screams pierced through the peaceful atmosphere of the night that was supposed to be just like any other night. He felt a searing pain by the side of his head, and then everything turned black.

(The night was supposed to be another chapter in Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s fairy tale, but the clock stroke midnight along with the insistent tapping of the impatient wolf outside their doorsteps.

An end to a story was inevitable, after all. But no, not like this. _Nobody expected for things to turn out like this_

 

↔ ↔ ↔

 

He opened his eyes blearily, thinking that it had all been a distant nightmare and when he gets up, everything would be alright. _Everything would be fine, right?_

**Wrong.**

The pain was just too real that he already knew what the odds of them surviving were. He strained his neck to take a better look of Chanyeol and Baekhyun and…

No, he shouldn’t have looked, for that memory was now forever imprinted on his mind and had no plans of fading away like the letters on the pages of a book that had once seen better days.

Because despite being bruised and bloodied, the hands of the two were still intertwined.

Kyungsoo willed himself to rip his eyes away and stared at the road ahead. His head was pounding with dizziness and pain and he wanted to throw up. The red lights on the front of the bus flickered, taunting him.

“Hey, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun’s voice had been squeaky, barely even recognizable without its usual loud volume and drips of sarcasm. It sounded almost like a whisper, carried away by the night’s gentle breeze. “Don’t let go, okay?”

Chanyeol attempted at what seemed to be a nod, but stopped midway as he winced in pain. Kyungsoo saw a glint of something sinister, something that looked quite like broken glass lodged into the back of his neck, and blood streamed down his torso, staining his pressed up white collared suit. “I promise. Nothing will keep us apart.” Not even death.

Baekhyun smiled despite the blood on his cheek and the cut on his lip. Blood was running down from his temple. "Bye, Chanyeol."

“Bye, Baek.” _But not really. Because i know we'd meet again. Sometime, someday, when the tides turn to our favor._

“Goodbye, Kyungsoo.” He heard Baekhyun croak. “And thank you.” Added Chanyeol.

Kyungsoo didn’t respond. He didn't glance back either and instead closed his eyes, hearing the distant sound of a siren approaching.

(Their promises were carried away by the wind, off to a place everyone knew but haven’t been to yet)

It was supposed to be a night just like any other, but it turned into the night when Park Chanyeol and Byun Baekhyun, Do Kyungsoo’s closest friends, died.

 

↔ ↔ ↔

 

“The bus’s number was 6892. It was colored yellow, in that same shade that a dandelion has.” Kyungsoo laughed dryly. “It’s funny how I remembered all of these details, yet remembering all of this doesn’t help with anything. All it ever did was kill me from the inside. It keeps on tearing me out piece by piece, until nothing’s left but the hallowed-out shell of a person named Do Kyungsoo, the kid without a dream.” A person named Do Kyungsoo, who, once upon a time had a dream of running off to the sunset with the missing piece to his happily ever after.

Jongin sat up straighter in his seat. “But you still have a dream, right? You told me you wanted to go to Paris!”

Kyungsoo shook his head. “Yes but… Nothing will ever be the same again.” _It was my fault; I should’ve been the one who died back there, not them._

“But hyung, nothing is ever the same again. Times change.”Jongin argued, his voice raising just a few pitches higher.

 _“No, Jongin.”_ Kyungsoo wanted to say. _“I’ve known you back when we were kids. You’re still the kid that always tried to look into the brighter side of things, but I guess you don’t remember your playmates back in the days when you still played in the sandbox.”_ , but he settled for, “Yes everything changes. People come and go, but,” Kyungsoo paused as he fiddled with his fingers. He sighed, turning to face Jongin once more, looking as dejected as ever.

“Everybody leaves, I know. But that’s okay; it’s a part of the cycle of life. People are born. People leave. People die. It’s an endless series of successions. But remembering it every day is… is just like…” he paused and took a shaky breath, lips trembling. “The problem is, I can never forget. No matter how hard I try, I will always remember. But all I ever wanted was to forget.” His voice came out as a whisper that Jongin wasn’t almost able to catch it.

At that moment, Jongin couldn’t help himself anymore—he took Kyungsoo by the shoulders and hugged the older guy. He just held his hyung there, really, because all he wanted right now was for all of Kyungsoo’s pains to go away (and no, he meant the hug as a comforting gesture, he was definitely not taking advantage of the situation. Oh… well maybe a little bit) even it meant that Kyungsoo might use him as a pillow and his new shirt would be soaking wet with tears and snot. But he really didn’t mind, though: this was Kyungsoo, after all.

“I know that it still hurts hyung, but… if it were up to me, I… I think I’d rather want to remember. I know that it hurts to remember, but I also wouldn’t want to forget.” He said, voice lower than the usual as he tried to sound as soothing and gentle as he could. It was bad, he sounded like a whistling kettle that was filled with water boiling from the heat of the fire underneath it. He almost cringed, but he ignored that, because he felt his shirt dampen, right at the part where Kyungsoo’s head was buried in his shoulder, and he knew that at this moment, Kyungsoo needed him more than anything else.

And then at that moment, the sky started showing its sympathy and the rain started to pour.

He stroked the back of Kyungsoo’s head almost absentmindedly. “It’s not your fault hyung, stop blaming yourself.”Kyungsoo sniffled, not knowing what to say. He hasn’t realized quite well how much Jongin has grown up since the first time they’ve met until now, that the younger one was able to answer a question he himself didn’t dare ask.

Jongin looked past the window of his room, with its curtains drawn back, through the heavy downpour of the rain and into the night.

(Pain, pain, go away. Can you please not come back anymore?)

The sounds coming from the abandoned television filled the gap that their silence left in its wake. Jongin turned his head to find Goo Jun Pyo smiling to himself like an idiot as a sleepy Geum Jan Di hugged him. “Jun Pyo and Jan Di’s first night together”, he writes on the glass pane of the cable car they were on.

And in some ways, Jongin realized that this was his first night with Kyungsoo, too.

 

↔ ↔ ↔

 

Jongin leaves a year into their friendship. Not because of Kyungsoo, but because he got a job offer in Japan. He wanted to say no, for the sake of staying by Kyungsoo’s side, but Kyungsoo wanted him to accept it.

They talked to each other daily though via SNS, with Jongin always the one to tell Kyungsoo what latest projects he was up to, the places he got to visit that day… stuff like that. In return, Kyungsoo updates Jongin about the latest developments between Sehun and Luhan’s relationship.

“Kid finally got the balls to ask him out, huh.” Kyungsoo could hear Jongin’s smirk over the phone. He thought he’d heard Jongin say something after that, but Jongin dismissed the idea, saying that he was most probably hallucinating because he missed Jongin. (But Jongin did say something. It was along the lines of, “What about me, though? When will I be able to ask you out?”)

And he did; he missed Jongin. More than he would admit; more than he could ever say. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words died on his lips.

 

↔ ↔ ↔

 

Two years after that, Jongin doesn’t contact him anymore. Kyungsoo thought it was bizarre, since Jongin was practically the one who always prompts them to call each other. But he ignored it; ignored the painful tugging in his heart and buried all the memories they had in a box with a daisy on top of it, 600 feet below his level of consciousness. Just like what he did back then with Baekhyun and Chanyeol.

He bumped into someone in the grocery store as he was thinking deeply which type of pasta to use in experimenting for a new version of his kimchi spaghetti, and his already wide eyes turned into the size of Jupiter as the stranger muttered an apology and offered him a smile.

“J-Jongin?” he stuttered.

Jongin scratched the back of his neck and smiled shyly. “Uhm… hi?”

He couldn’t help himself—dropping the grocery basket that he was carrying on the floor, he flung himself into Jongin and hugged the younger one tightly. “I’ve missed you.” That’s what I’ve been wanting to say this whole time.

Jongin hugged him back, but the feeling was foreign, as if Jongin didn’t know him. Kyungsoo let the other one go, blushing furiously at what he did.

Jongin smiled again. “I’m really sorry but… I don’t remember you.”

_No. **No no no no no**. This couldn’t possibly happen._

“I had an accident, you see and… I was diagnosed with amnesia.” Kyungsoo felt his resolve crumble underneath his own palms. “But you seem really nice, though. And quite… familiar? Were we friends before?”

Kyungsoo saw a faint light coming from what seemed to be the end of the dark tunnel that he was in. He dug up the box of memories he had with Jongin and dusted the dirt away, opening it to find flowers and unspoken words and promises that might have already been forgotten. But he still wants to try.

He smiled and held out his hand, just like how Jongin taught him to do the first time they met. “I’m Do Kyungsoo. I could help you remember.”

 

↔ ↔ ↔

 

_Retrouvailles (French): The happiness of meeting again after a long time_


End file.
